


The Red String

by adjovi



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-15 22:00:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18081695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adjovi/pseuds/adjovi
Summary: According to myth, the gods tie an invisible red cord around the ankles of those that are destined to meet one another in a certain situation or help each other in a certain way.Future fic.





	The Red String

**Author's Note:**

> I marked this Quentin/Eliot which it is, kinda, sorta. But not really as Eliot isn't really in this. (But, kinda).

The girl. Woman, Quentin’s mind corrected, didn’t look much older than he was. Julia hadn’t supplied many details of what she would look like, just that they would _know_. She was definitely on her way towards getting drunk, given the way she was laughing a little too hard at whatever her friend had said. How she gripped the other woman’s arm too familiarly. She and the other girl, sitting too close to _just_ be friends. But, he used to sit like that with Eliot when they were _just_ friends. On second thought, maybe they never were. The were in the Physical Kid's cottage, that much he could tell. They’d been sling-shotted an indeterminate amount of time into the future. There were changes, but he was too distracted to take them in. She looked up at him and froze completely, glass halfway to her lips. “Oh, holy shit.”

The woman next to her shifted, surprised, eyes wide. She was carefully inspecting Quentin’s face, he realized. “Wait--is that--?” She was cut off by the first woman who grabbed her by the arm.

She turned to look at her friend. “Not.” She paused for emphasis. “A good idea.”

The other woman just nodded slowly. “Ooook.”

The Monster slunk around the doorway of the kitchen, looking first at the friend, then at the woman. The one they had been sent for; Quentin knew this beyond a shadow of a doubt. “This is--her?”

“Befucked baby Jesus.” She kind of made a wheezy laugh, pulling herself together. She sat up on her knees. “I guess I--” She brushed her hair from her forehead, wrapping it behind her ear. Chuckling, she cleared her throat. “Ok. Yeah. I should’ve realized--”

Quentin shook his head. “I think I’m missing something here.”

The Monster strode into the room, head tilted, assessing. “ _We’re_ missing something here.” He perched on the back of the couch, looming over them. Quentin caught his eyes, shaking his head tightly. The Monster sighed, speaking under his breath. “You’re no fun anymore.”

Quentin crossed his arms across his chest, then threw out a hand. “So--” The Monster leaned in towards the woman. She was slight and blonde, with blue eyes. The Monster ran his finger down her cheek, and bizarrely, she didn’t flinch away. Quentin moved in, gently pulling his arm away. “Um. How about no touching?” He shot the Monster a stern look before flicking his eyes to the girl. “Sorry.”

The Monster drew his shoulders back, a knowing yet surprised grin on his face. “You remind me of someone.”

The other girl spoke, rolling her eyes dramatically. “No shit--”

“Ok.” The girl turned towards her friend. “You get to go now.”

Her friend scoffed. “Well, fine.” She pushed off the couch. “If you're insisting on playing out this--this _mindfuck_ of a nightmare and end up dead? I _will_ hunt your ass down in the Underworld just to bitch slap the shit out of you.” But, her voice was fond, breaking a bit on the end. She spared a quick glance at Quentin, lingering a bit longer on the Monster. “Babe, I--”

The girl stood, wobbling a little, steadying herself on her friend’s arm. “We knew this was coming. I’ll be ok.” She leaned in, giving her a kiss, her eyes soft. “I promise.” She closed her eyes and sighed. Her friend eyeballed Quentin, and he squirmed a little, trying to give an encouraging smile and a nod as she exited. Honestly, though, he had no idea what he was even agreeing to. “So, I’m--” She gestured broadly with her glass, her drink sloshing inside. “Sofia.”

“You’re ly-ng.” The Monster leaned in, sing-songing. “Sofia is one of the most popular girl names in the world.”

She set her glass down, clapping quickly, hands by her face. And Quentin was reminded of-- something. “Look at you with the google fu.” It was disturbing how little fear she had, given she obviously knew who they were.

“Clever girl.” The Monster provided. Shit. He never should have let him into his dad’s movie collection. The Monster leaned back in, _scenting_ her, and his eyes went wide. “Oh!” He took in a deep breath. “I know you--don’t I?”

She regarded him solemnly. “Yes. You do.”

He smiled, inexplicably pleased, and glanced back at Quentin. “But, he doesn’t? How _could_ he?”

Quentin felt his stomach twist uncomfortably, completely out of his depth. “What does _that_ mean?”

“You’re right.” She stumbled a little, turning, then walked over to the bar cart. She poured a half glass of something opaque, handing it to Quentin. “Here.”

He sniffed it, catching the smokey, slightly biting smell of--whiskey? He held the glass alight, eyeballing it. “Is this drugged?”

The Monster smiled at him indulgently. “She wouldn’t hurt you, would you, _So_ fia?”

She did a shot from the same bottle, sucking in a breath. “Nope.” She walked back over, and taking the Monster by the _hand_ , led him to sit next to her on the couch. Quentin took a healthy chug, sputtering at the burn. _The actual fuck_? “So. We need to make a trade.”

The Monster laughed, that sick, full laugh that wasn’t real. Forced through Eliot’s mouth. He snatched his hand back. “I do not _trade_. I take what was _took_ from me.”

She rolled her eyes, slamming down the rest of her drink. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know.” She gave a little laugh, then smiled at him, almost tender. Quentin’s mind was reeling. He drained his glass as well. “Trust me. You’re gonna want to trade for this.” She fucking _winked_ at the Monster.

The Monster’s eyes went wide, searching her face. “You--you _like_ me.” He grabbed at her hand. “Not. Not Eliot-me. Well, yes. But, also. _Me_.”

She smiled again, and there was no denying that her look was warm. “I do.” She took in a shaky breath. “You’re my--family.”

The Monster reared back, considering, casting his eyes along the ground. Quentin had no idea what in the fuck was happening, none of this made any sense. She seemed so very _human_ , but what did he know? He’d been a passenger on the crazy train for so long now he didn’t really know anything anymore. He needed more alcohol, a situation he amended immediately. “Oh.” The Monster’s voice was very soft. Quentin felt eyes on him, and as he turned from the bar, he found the Monster was studying him intently. The Monster appeared to be reeling at whatever revelation he had landed on. “Oh.”

She tugged at his hand. “Yeah. So.” She licked her lips slowly. Choosing her words, careful and precise. “Do you understand?”

The Monster’s gaze skipped around the room before landing again on Quentin. He nodded once. Quentin, for his part, held up his drink in salute, taking another sip. He’d better slow down, he was already feeling heady. The last thing he’d eaten was that shitty Sbarro pizza in the mall, like six-seven hours ago. Well, in _their_ time. “Sorry. Going to jump in here. But, what in the actual fuck--”

The Monster spoke overtop of him, and Quentin felt a spike of useless rage he tamped down. “What do you want to trade?”

“We need to make a blood oath.” She pulled her mouth into a thin line, all business. She was still a bit tipsy, though, and so was Quentin, and it was all a bit ridiculous. He couldn’t help it; had no idea why. This wasn’t necessarily funny. Still, he giggled, just a little. She bit her lip.

“You don’t trust me?” The Monster sounded inexplicably hurt.

“Well, you’re a bit--slippery.” She ducked her head, catching his eyes. “And, you’re not-- _you_. Not yet, anyways.”

“Oh, so that’s how it _happens_?” He tilted his head, thinking, a darting glance back towards Quentin.

“Well, it. No--not _exactly_ like that, but yes.” Sofia shrugged. “Kind of. Anyways.” She rubbed her hands quickly over her knees. “Blood oath.”

His eyes were very wide and serious. “What do you have?”

“Can we just--” Quentin tried to cut in. He was more than a little wary of where this was going, and of what they were agreeing to. Felt a little off-the-rails. The crazy train. At this point.

“Before I--” she overlapped him. Sofia took in a deep breath. “Oh, sorry I--sorry.” She closed her eyes, pausing, before addressing Quentin directly. “Look. There are--fail safes in place. And, I know you have no conceivable reason to trust me, but.” She shrugged. “It’s all I got. That and the prophetic dreams I apparently got from my _mother_.” She quickly looked back at the Monster. “She’s not important to this part of the story. Like, at all. So, don’t even.” She hit the Monster lightly on the shoulder. “But, just so you understand. There is _no other way_. I’m the _only_ one. So. You know.” She indicated her head at Quentin. “He doesn’t know.” The Monster went to speak, but she held up a finger. “Neither does Eliot. So, don’t get any dumb ideas. This was all figured out,” she gestured vaguely at the space around her, “a long time ago.”

The Monster slid closer to her, trying for menacing, Quentin could tell, but she wasn’t buying it. “What. Do. You. Have?”

She sighed heavily. “Your heart.”

Quentin gasped, stepping forward. The final piece. This wasn’t what Julia said they would find. She said maybe a lead on the next organ stone. “Holy shit.”

The Monster sat frozen, slowly blinking, until he narrowed his eyes. “And, what do _I_ have?”

She gave him a sad half-smile. “Eliot.” And, Quentin felt his chest crack right down the center. He couldn’t help the little sob that escaped, and she turned her face towards him, sympathy so obvious it was gutting. He put an arm on the wall to steady himself, his thoughts pinballing. Maybe Julia _had_ known all along.

The Monster just rolled his eyes, annoyed. He crossed his arms across his chest. “Why?”

Quentin almost shouted, anger hot and sharp behind his eyes. But Sofia smiled placidly, her voice calm and soft, as if speaking with a child. “You _know_ why.”

The Monster blew out a long dramatic breath, throwing his head back. “What if I just _took_?”

She shook her head. “Then, you won’t get what you _really_ want.”

He took in a deep breath, blowing out almost a growl. He clicked his tongue against his teeth. “ _Fine_ ”.

Sofia hopped off the couch, heading to the little library side room, pulling out a familiar looking box. The Monster looked at Quentin, clearly annoyed at the arrangement. Was he looking for encouragement? Quentin was so fucking lost at this point he just shook his head. She popped the clasp on the box, displaying the Leo blade, and well fuck. The Monster, clearly aware of what it was and what it could do, flinched backwards. “Hey, no. I can’t hold it.” She held the box out to him. “It has to be you. To cut us. For the oath.”

“Are you sure--” Quentin started, but she cut him off with a determined glance.

She turned back towards the Monster, then thinking the better of it, grabbed the whiskey and drank directly from the bottle. She splashed a bit of it over her right hand, which she held out palm-up in offering. “Now or never.” But the Monster just stood there, holding one corner of the box so it tipped downwards. She sighed. “Look, you just--” She put her index finger in the center of her palm. “Here. A little cut. Then you do you.”

The Monster took out the knife, letting the case hit the floor. “And, you promise. _All_ of it.”

Sofia smiled at him indulgently. “You know I can’t promise that. All I know is what I know. The rest is up to you.” She closed her eyes, overcome with emotion. “A good first step would be giving Eliot back to him.” Quentin’s throat was thick, and he barely dared to breathe.

“Ok.” The Monster said after a long, pregnant moment. He pierced her skin, then his own, holding his hand out to shake. She said a short incantation in Hungarian, maybe? Then they shook on it, a bright white pulse emitting from their clasped hands. That flung Quentin to the far back of the room.

“Oh shit! Oh _shit_.” Sofia had run over to where he had fallen. “I didn’t know that was going to happen.” Quentin gingerly touched the back of his head; his fingers came back smeared with blood. “Christ. Are you ok?”

And maybe he hit his head pretty fucking hard. Because Quentin became acutely, finally _aware_ in the moment that Sofia gazed down at him. Of that spectacular, elegant, particular pain of being perfectly reflected on someone else's face. Teddy’s eyes had been blue, too. He just stared at her, the understanding encumbering his overtaxed brain. He felt like he might puke; like the world was listing to the side, his mind thick with the haze.

“Here, let me.” The Monster knelt down, placing a hand gently around the back of Quentin’s head. The feeling was so strange, like his skin was being stretched out to fit over his skull, not painful, just odd. Truthfully, Quentin barely noticed. He was staring, he knew. Cataloging the differences. Memorizing. He didn’t even register when the Monster took his hand, tugging him to standing.

Sofia was staring, too, just not at Quentin. “You ready?”

The Monster nodded eagerly. “Ready.”

She did a complicated series of tutts, right over her heart. Something began to glow underneath her t-shirt and she pulled a thin rope from around her neck, bringing out the stone she had been wearing. The Monster reacted immediately, stepping forward unbidden, nose flaring like when he was confronted with ambrosia. “Here, bend down, tall man.” He did, and she slipped the stone over his head. It was beautiful; a bright, glowing teal.

“You were wearing it the whole time?” The Monster was stroking the stone softly, reverently.

She quirked a smile. “Well, they’re called tropes for a reason.” She took a deep breath. “Now, for the tough stuff.”

The Monster closed his eyes. “Yes.” Quentin was genuinely staggered with the realization that all this time they had been bargaining for something far more precious than a mere stone. He startled when the Monster placed a hand on his shoulder, wanting to shrug it off. Quentin felt panicked, silently berating himself for not paying attention earlier. They hadn’t had enough time.

Sofia reached out, running a finger over the heart stone. Her eyes shone with tears as she looked up at the Monster. “I’ll be seeing you.”

Quentin just kept staring, slightly alarmed when the Monster leaned forward, pressing a kiss gently to her forehead. “Thank you.”

She turned to look at Quentin, her face immediately falling with what she saw there. Understanding what he knew. “Oh _fuck_.”

They blinked away.

**Author's Note:**

> So, basically, yeah this is weird. In my bizarro brain, I wanted this to be about Q and El’s kid (and Fen’s) helping from the future to build their family. I originally had Q as the bio dad but it really could be either. Also? I wanted to give the Monster something nice-so basically the first step to him becoming part of their family. 
> 
> Thanks to @greywash for the pom pom assist.
> 
> Kudos and comments are love. Thanks for dropping by.


End file.
